The Girl Can't Help It

Monday, February 27, 2006

All in a flooded moment,the sun could riseand announcing its intentionwith storm filled eyesclimb slowly over the roundWe fall and rise above itsearching, but not knowing whythe sun so bright were we tofollow it mightall in a flooded moment, rise.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

I've been too tired lately to pry my brain into action. Six months pregnant with a toddler and all, I'm beginning to feel it in my bones. But upon checking out the status of my neglected bog I saw that two new comments have been posted in my absence. That's enough to get me going again. I think I'm addicted to feedback. You can hear it in the way I often end a sentence with: " you know?".

Anyway, what I've been thinking about lately is family values, sort of. I got accepted into an art school when my first child was about one year old. It's very hard to get into an art school here to study fine art. There are only about 120 openings each year in all the schools put together and less in the schools that are in my vicinity. So I was extremely happy when I got my acceptance letter.

Here in Norway, it is the norm to put your child in day-care from around one year old because that's when your state-guaranteed paid leave of absence runs out. I've worked in day-care centers here for about 5 years. They are of a much higher quality than American day-care centers. It's actually considered to be kindergarten, even for the youngest. The ratio of adult to child for the youngest is 1:3. Still, the look of vacancy in the eyes of one year olds who only want to be sitting in their mommy's laps convinced me that I would never put my child in kindergarten at such a young age. Until I got my acceptance letter,- then I started thinking maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Everyone else does it. Women are encouraged to get back into the work force and put their kids in day-care. Husbands and wives should share duties and contribute equally to their own household and to society in general. I like to think of myself as an independant thinker, but even I began to feel the pressure. It wasn't until the very last moment that I decided to stay home with my son for one more year before starting on my Bachelors (which I want mostly for practical reasons...).

Now I'm awaiting my second in June, so I won't be starting this Fall either and if I'm fair to the coming child, the Fall after that will be spent with her as well.

The feminists who encourage women to get out of the house and look down upon those who don't, have a point though. My brain is getting rather blunt. Most of my days are spent with other mothers who I in any other circumstance, wouldn't have anything in common with. But now we get along just great and I enjoy their company.

I can't help but wonder what life would have been like if I'd started school and my son was cared for by someone else during the day. I'd definitly be more stimulated artistically and socially,- but would he be as stimulated? Would he be as happy? The more I write, the more I think I made and am making the right decision. Time spent alone with a child at home is time noone but those involved know about or can share. I get no feedback except his happiness or unhappiness. It's hard for someone like me, who enjoys feedback, it's a challenge. But I suppose life is a challenge, nothing is gained by avoiding it. Maybe, and I hope, both me and my children (and husband) will gain from these quiet days at home, wishing for a blast of freedom in between meals, naps, walks and playing. Wishing but being glad, actually. Glad inside to be so close to my child, - for being close.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Monday, February 13, 2006

Sunday, February 05, 2006

I grew up in the late 70's and 80's. From my perspective, it was a peaceful time, I mean, compared to living in WWII or the McCarthy era or Vietnam. We read about harder times in literature and history books. They seemed inconcievable and not repeatable.

One author who wrote alot about the Mc Carthy era in particular was Philip K. Dick. His worlds are often populated by secret agents who come knocking on peaceful pot-smoking bohemians doors asking them if they are or have any affiliation with communists. He wrote science fiction it has to be said and these agents and situations seemed a little weirder than one imagined they really were. But today I read something stranger. My friend who's an artist has recently opened his door to two different "agents" at two different times asking if he was either an animal rights activist or a terrorist. (see Hobowilson's blog at www.hobowilson.blogspot.com ) . As he explains, the first episode was the result of his taking a picture of his reflection in his car mirror which the person driving the car in front of him who worked in a perfume factory found threatening and called the "episode" in. The second is weirder if you ask me. My friend was photographing a bridge. Doesn't matter why or it shouldn't, but he explains that he uses pictures of bridges and industrial structures in his art. Sometime after returning home from taking these pictures a federal agent knocks on his door asking if he is a terrorist or knows any terrorists. He invites him in to further convince him of his innocence. Why did the agent visit him? It's unusual behavior to take a picture of a bridge.

This is weirder than the science fiction I grew up with and I don't know what's worse;the fact that my friends action resulted in a housecall from a federal agent and being suspected of terrorism, or the more subtle fact: taking a picture of a bridge is unusual. It wasn't unusual in the late 70's and 80's. What do people do now instead, I wonder?